“Yes, it’s time,” he said. “Kouzma, get ready the trap,” and he ran downstairs.

Stepan Arkadyevitch, going down, carefully took the canvas cover off his varnished gun case with his own hands, and opening it, began to get ready his expensive new-fashioned gun. Kouzma, who already scented a big tip, never left Stepan Arkadyevitch’s side, and put on him both his stockings and boots, a task which Stepan Arkadyevitch readily left him.

“Kostya, give orders that if the merchant Ryabinin comes...I told him to come today, he’s to be brought in and to wait for me...”

“Why, do you mean to say you’re selling the forest to Ryabinin?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”